


I Got Mine

by milkysterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Kink, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Caught, Coming Untouched, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek
Summary: His throat is thick, body tense as he rocks forward against the sink, trying to find some friction against the smooth underbelly of the basin. Nothing feels good, there's no release and somehow through his lust clogged gullet he manages a whimper, "Please, Alpha."





	

Little breaths puff against the cool surface of the mirror leaving tiny circles of condensation that billow out and taper off. Stiles grips the sides of the porcelain sink tighter until his wide knuckles turn white, almost like they're threatening to pop out of their delicate sockets. The sink beneath his bare chest is cold - too cold - and juts uncomfortably into his ribs making him grunt in protest.

"Too much?" Derek's chuckle is breathy against his lower back, barely audible over the pulsing music from the room below, but Stiles hears him.

"Fuckin' breakin' my ribs," Stiles huffs out, his tone slurred and choppy, what with the sink suffocating him and all. It's not a particularly pleasant feeling. He's about to tell Derek to let up or call him an asshole, or something like that when the wolf inserts a second lube slick finger into his tight hole and Stiles hisses, forehead falling forward to clank against the damp mirror. It rattles on the wall and an abrupt wave of panic shoots through him at the thought of it crashing to the floor, shattering and alerting the other party goers to Stiles' rather compromising position. Luckily, it doesn't and Stiles tries his best to relax his muscles once more. "Can't you just fuck me already?"

There's a sharp pain on the inside of Stiles' left ass cheek and he curses, knowing Derek's bite mark is going to be there for a while. "Stop being a brat," the wolf orders, then Stiles feels his free fingers rub the swollen mark he's made before his hot, wet tongue licks over it. "Don't want to hurt you by rushing."

"I don't care if you hurt me," Stiles mutters, wiggling his ass back and relishing in the feeling of Derek's long fingers being sucked past his rim. They're nice and deep and the sensation makes the boy's aching cock throb.

Derek's been working him for so long; lapping at his hole, easing it open with his talented tongue, kissing at his sack and finally, _finally_ sliding one wet finger inside. They're at Lydia's - it's her eighteenth birthday and the whole school is there, drinking and dancing and, yeah, probably fucking too. But they've been hauled up in this bathroom for so long and someone is bound to notice sooner or later. God, he just wants to get fucked and get back to socialising with his friends. Is that so much to ask? He doesn't know why Derek's here anyway. It's not like Stiles doesn't want to see him, it's just that this is a high school party full of high schoolers and less twenty-three-year-old werewolves who look like they sell drugs - to high schoolers.

He also thinks it's kinda suspicious that Derek showed up - red eyes glowing - almost immediately after Isaac had spotted some hot lacrosse player from their rival school hitting on Stiles near Lydia's spare bedroom. Typical werewolves - stealthy as always.

Stiles is torn from his inner monologue by a third finger pushing up inside of him and he groans, the muscles in his back tensing up. "I care," Derek growls, curling his digits in just the right place to send sparks flashing across Stiles' vision. "And we're doing this my way."

His throat is thick, body tense as he rocks forward against the sink, trying to find some friction against the smooth underbelly of the basin. Nothing feels good, there's no release and somehow through his lust clogged gullet he manages a whimper, " _Please, Alpha_."

Derek stiffens, pumping fingers coming to a sudden stop before being removed altogether. Stiles' wrecked and needy sob has barely left his bite swollen lips when he hears the heavenly sound of Derek's tight jeans falling down his legs. The plush, velvet-like head of Derek's thick cock circles Stiles' fluttering hole in a way that is so very familiar to Stiles at this point and his body relaxes onto the hard porcelain now that he's sure he's going to get his own way. It's probably cheating, using that alpha stuff on Derek, but the guy loves it and Stiles isn't above acting the submissive damsel if it gets him what he wants. 

The push and stretch burn Stiles' hole but it's something that he's used to now to the point that he almost craves it. His teeth bite down against the basin until they hurt and he desperately tries to keep quiet. It's one thing keeping his mouth shut enough to not draw the attention of the human party guests, it's another thing not alerting Scott as to what is going on behind one rather thin wooden door. And, holy fuck, would Scott be pissed if he found out. God damn werewolves with their freakish hearing and even freakier overly possessive instincts.

It feels like a lifetime before Derek is finally at the hilt and Stiles is filled up with as much alpha cock as he can take. He lets out a whine, lifting his head so he can press it against the cool glass of the mirror. Derek's clawed hands are on his hips, gripping him tight enough that they'll be bruised for weeks, which is just how Derek likes it. (See: freakier overly possessive instincts)

The pain on his skin is just enough to pull Stiles out of the thick fog of his lust and he dampens his lips before meeting Derek's scarlet eyes in the mirror. "C'mon then, Derek. Show me what you've got," Stiles smirks in that cocksure, arrogant way that always riles the alpha up and is rewarded with the long pull of Derek's dick sliding out of him until his tip has almost popped from his entrance before slamming back in with enough force to have Stiles' face cracking against the mirror again. Stiles moans in pleasure but still manages to jab his foot out, kicking Derek in his bare shin. "You're a real cunt, you know that?"

Derek just chuckles, throaty and deep and starts a brutal pace that has Stiles clinging onto the slippery sides of the sink for dear life. 

The mirror is covered in condensation now excluding the clear parts where Stiles' face has wiped it away, leaving a watery and spit slick smear behind. The boy goes to grab his cock, wanting nothing more than to jerk himself off but is met with one of Derek's hands coming down and slapping him away. "Fuck," he whimpers, tears leaking down his flushed face. "Derek, Derek, Alpha,  _please_."

Derek just shushes him, running a shaky hand up and down Stiles' exposed spine. "Almost there, baby. You're doing so well."

"You're evil," Stiles sobs, a hand coming up to grip in his own hair, trying to ground himself as Derek's fat, heavy member pounds into his sensitive ass. "Good alphas d-don't refuse a guy his orgasms. I-it's-" Stiles' half-formed complaint dies in his mouth as he feels something deep inside him expand and - fucking hell he's going to kill Derek Hale.

" _Fuck_ ," Derek moans and Stiles knows that fuck. That's not an 'oh fuck' fuck. That's an 'oh fuck, I fucked up' fuck and Stiles is going to fucking kill him. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Stiles gasps, cursing the pleasure still coursing through his veins. It doesn't matter though because when Derek tries to quickly pull out, that huge, defiant knot tugs on Stiles' rim and refuses to budge. "I'm going to fucking kill you," He repeats because once is not enough. Once will never be enough. Stiles is going to fucking kill Derek Hale. 

"Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry," Derek rushes, eyes wide and panicked in his reflection in the cooling mirror. "I didn't mean to do that."

Stiles lifts a hand and wipes away the remaining condensation to fix Derek with a dark glare. "I don't care if you didn't mean to do it, just get to thinking about dead kittens before someone catches us," He grits out between clenched teeth but pauses when Derek looks shiftily towards the bathroom door, "What, what, what?" 

"Someone's coming."

 

"Can I borrow a tampon? I left my purse with Boyd and I can't be bothered to go find him," Erica asks and Stiles blushes because he is an immature child when it comes down to it. 

"Sure," Lydia sighs and there's a click and creaking noise that Stiles guesses are the mirror cabinet opening and the rustling noise that follows is definitely the tampon. Stiles hates himself, but he hates Derek more.

Derek - that stupid fucking no good werewolf - is currently sat on his ass in the bathtub, knot still firmly trapped in Stiles' own ass with a piss thin yellow shower curtain the only thing hiding them from eternal embarrassment and well-deserved shame. Did Stiles mention how much he hates Derek? 

"Kira, I love you, but you need to stop moping," Lydia says and Stiles can almost see the disapproving crease in her brow. "Just go talk to him."

"Who?" Erica pipes up and, yeah, Stiles can _definitely_ see her wolfish grin, shower curtain be damned.

Lydia sighs again, more irritated this time, "Scott, obviously." 

"Gross," Erica says sweetly and Derek fucking smirks against the crease between Stiles' neck and shoulder. Stiles considers slapping the wolf's arm because Derek and Scott's rivalry aside, and forgetting the bro code betrayal that Stiles regularly commits by sitting on Derek's dick - Stiles is still Scott's best friend. He decides against it though because he really doesn't want to get caught.

"Hey," Kira scolds playfully and oh fuck her voice sounds pretty fucking close. She must be right outside the curtain. "Scott's sweet!"

The she-wolf laughs loud and musically, "Oh yeah, sure. Sweet as pie. If you forget all the times he-"

"Nobody's listening, Erica." Lydia's comment seems to end the conversation because neither Kira nor Erica picks it back up. The three finish whatever it was they were doing and Stiles allows himself a moment to relax back into Derek, thinking the ordeal is well and truly over. 

That's when Derek decides to get cocky and somehow comes to the conclusion that it's a good idea to roll his hips, rubbing his knot right up against Stiles' prostate. Stiles lets out a hiccuping gasp and slaps his hand over his mouth because - _oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking fuck fuck_.

"What was that?" Erica purrs and there isn't even enough time to grab his shirt that's bunched up at the bottom of the bathtub with the rest of Stiles and Derek's clothes before Erica is ripping the curtain open to expose the tied together pair and Stiles is cumming all over himself. 

It's a sorry state of affairs. 

Kira is bright red, Lydia doesn't look even slightly impressed and Erica isn't even attempting to hide her predatory grin as she lifts her phone up for a picture. Stiles just sits there and takes his punishment because this is his life. Pulling his shirt into his lap to cover what's left of his dignity, he looks pleadingly up at Kira, because she's the only one of the three with a soul. "Please don't tell Scott."

"I won't," She agrees, pointedly refusing to make eye contact with him. 

Derek hasn't said anything yet but the way Erica's laughter slowly tapers off until she's grimacing makes Stiles think he's definitely got his trademarked Derek Hale disapproving glare in place.

"You need to improve your sense of smell," he growls at his beta who looks down at her feet, "You should have been able to smell Stiles and I the second you walked in. Now get the fuck out; I still need to cum." 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://milkysterek.tumblr.com)


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